To Vinesh, The Fire That Burns

Welcome home, oh fearless one,

Your strength is etched in every stride,

You return not just with battles won,

But carrying a nation's pride.

They've sung of you-the fierce, the bold-

The warrior on the floor.

But it's your spirit, untamed, unsold,

That we have come to adore.

In the time between your valiant fight

And the silence that you broke,

Kolkata has drowned in endless night,

Injustice as its cloak.

For a man, we need no proof to trust,

For women, proof must bleed.

Until her body is crushed by fate,

Only then do we concede.

For every hour protesting wrong,

In Delhi, every tear unshed,

You fought beyond the wrestling ground,

Where others feared to tread.

Yet you stood, defiant and tall,

When doubt circled like chains,

You bore the weight of every call,

Of every silent pain.

You traded sweat for the street’s harsh stones,

For justice yet denied,

You could have fought just for yourself,

But you pushed the world aside.

You lit a fire in hearts grown cold,

Gave voice to silent cries,

Heroes do not just wear gold,

They rise where darkness lies.

So as you come back through the door,

Know what you’ve done for us—

You’ve raised a storm that roars and soars,

And made our spirits trust.

A poem crafted in your name,

It holds our rage and love,

For you’ve shown us all that heroes are,

A flame sent from above.

We stand with you, with Zinat’s tears,

With Moumita, with unnamed,

With every woman lost to fears,

Whose stories are unclaimed.

Thank you, Vinesh, for your blazing heart,

For every step you’ve fought,

For standing tall when others fell,

For battles fiercely wrought.

You’ve brought us hope, you’ve lit the night,

You’ve led us through the storm,

You’ve shown the world what heroes are—

A fire, bright and warm.

With all my love, my deepest awe,

Your strength, a guiding light,

You’ve come back home, the fiercest flame,

A warrior burning bright.